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I have a little problem. I'm addicted to cookbooks, food writing, recipe collecting, and cooking. I have a lot of recipes waiting for me to try them, and ideas from articles, tv, and restaurants often lead to new dishes. I started losing track of what I've done. So now I'm taking photos and writing about what I've prepared—unless it's terrible in which case I forget it ever happened.

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Monday, February 9, 2009

Back in December when I was reading Saveur, Kurt happened to glance over my shoulder while I was on the page about Bordelaise sauce. He felt certain that this was something I should definitely try, and he was all too willing to humbly offer his services as taste tester. Classic French sauces are interesting to me, even when they’re made with veal demi-glace and served on red meat. I’m intrigued by the thought of making them and learning from the process. And, so it was that Kurt had his lucky day. He got to select a nice, big filet mignon and grill it as desired while I tinkered in the kitchen with Bordelaise sauce.

I’ve read all about how amazing veal stock is on Ruhlman’s blog and in his The Elements of Cooking, and I suspect I’ll make some one of these days. This was not, however, that day. The Saveur article also includes step by step instructions for making veal stock and reducing it into demi-glace. I brazenly blew off all of that. I went straight to Whole Foods and searched for a pre-made veal demi-glace. They were out. The guy at the meat counter suggested I ask in prepared foods. The guy in prepared foods said no, they never have it there, and don’t I know how to make it. Yes, I’ve read about how to make it, but I’d somehow misplaced the eight or so hours I would need to do so. Onward I went to Central Market where I found a very good, albeit packaged, veal demi-glace.

Wine with shallots, bay leaf from my tree, and some thyme simmered and reduced. The slacker demi-glace was added. The filet was grilled, and juices were collected on a plate where it rested. A scant tablespoon of butter, I thought there'd be more, was whisked in, and the steak juices and some parsley were added to the sauce. The steak was sprinkled with rosemary and thyme, was set into a puddle of sauce, and received a dab of sauce on top. Did I, the red meat abstainer, taste this celebration of veal and beef? Of course I did. I had to know. I think I’ve used the phrase depth of flavor before but I shouldn’t have because this was what depth of flavor truly is. It was a velvety, luscious, beautiful thing. I haven’t converted into a beef eater or anything, but I do have a renewed appreciation for French classics.

You've made me want to try this. I am also jealous (in a nice way) of the bay leaf from your tree :) Have always wanted to try growing one but the quick and sad demise of my lemon tree has held me off.